


Running with an Angel

by wynnedotte



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Mafia AU, Mild Gore, Roadtrip, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnedotte/pseuds/wynnedotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Angela gets abducted from her Paris flat and ends up in an interrogation room in the castle of a Japanese mob boss, the last place she thinks to find an ally is in the boss's cocky younger brother, Genji. Together, the two set out to bring Angela home to her grandfather in Germany. Will they be able to reach it before Genji's brother, Hanzo, can get his hands on them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paris Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a general note: considering that this is a Mafia AU, this fic might contain some violence and gore, but nothing excessive. I'll update the warnings if I feel it's necessary.  
> Also, more characters will appear in later chapters; I'll be updating the character list as I go too :3 Now, on with the fic!

Angela Ziegler raised her shoulders, snuggling deeper in the large, soft scarf piled about her neck. The winter winds kissed her cheeks, bringing new-fallen snowflakes to dust her lashes. She quickened her step, snow crunching beneath her new boots.

Winter in Paris was a sight to behold. She did enjoy the clarity that summer brought to the city, but the image of the black skyline covered in a blanket of white was a thing she found most calming. Oftentimes she’d sit in the round window of her flat with a mug of steaming hot chocolate and gaze out on the magnificent view.

_ Hot chocolate sounds good about now,  _ she thought, rummaging around in her pocket for her keys. Unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to sit in her window today; she had to finish writing the latest article on the nanobots she created a year ago. It had been a month since she’d published the last one and it was about time she kicked herself into finishing this next one.

Angela could practically hear the booming voice of her beloved grandfather bouncing around in her head. “I buy you this flat in Paris so you have a place to vacation and you spend your time there  _ working _ , Angela!”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the memory of her last conversation with Grandfather Reinhardt. “Opa, you know I love you, but you also know how busy I am. I can’t just  _ stop _ ; too many people are waiting on my research—”

“Research be damned, Angela. I’m telling Torbjörn to schedule you a jet for tonight. Pack your things; the car will arrive around 6pm and I better not find one scrap of paper in your luggage.”

She’d sighed, switching the phone to her other ear. “Alright Opa,” Angela had said, defeated.

That was almost two weeks ago. He called every evening to wish her a goodnight, to argue with her about working, to make sure she had enough money to buy whatever she wanted (“Don’t you be pinching your pennies either—no granddaughter of  _ mine _ is going to go around worrying about money, especially not while she’s in Paris!”). She’d sent him pictures of all the cute clothes she’d bought herself last week and he’d heartedly approved of her all her choices.

_ He doesn’t need to know about the article, _ she told herself, unlocking the door to the building and making her way to the elevator.  _ I’ll just tell him I wrote it on the way back to Switzerland. _

Angela shifted the bag of groceries she was holding so she could press the button for her floor. As the elevator began its ascent, the doctor tried brushing the snow off her clothes only to find the spare flakes had already melted in the heat of the building lobby, leaving her hair and shoulders damp. “I’ll have to throw you in the dryer,” she said to her grey coat.

The second she stepped off the elevator, she stopped. At the moment, she didn’t know why. Angela looked around the marble elevator hall. Nothing appeared to be out of place, but for some reason the hair on the back of her neck was prickling. She had to make a conscious effort to begin the walk out of the elevator hall and down the hall to her flat door. Each step she made felt heavier and heavier, as if a veil of foreboding was thrown over her.

She gave herself a good shake and said it was just the cold air creeping down her spine. Nothing was out of place; the passage looked just as it always did. What was this sudden feeling of alarm? She unlocked the flat door and burst in to prove to herself that she was worrying for nothing.

Angela got a quick look of her utterly demolished residence before someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a chloroform-soaked rag to her face. She put up a brief, feeble fight before everything went black.  
  



	2. Chained Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela wakes up in the interrogation room.

The sensation Angela recognized when she came to was nausea. The belligerent ringing in her ears was so loud she couldn’t tell if someone had stuffed a bell tower into her skull or if she was in the center of an aggressive German choir. _Concussion, more than mild, I’d say,_ she concluded. She couldn’t pinpoint the center of the pain that accompanied the ringing, but made a mental note to inspect her head later. _They must’ve hit me hard after the chloroform._

She couldn’t calculate how long she lay there, but when she finally felt stable enough to open her eyes, Angela was greeted by a world of grey and black shapes. It was all a blur, but guessing from the texture of the surface her face was pressed to, she could guess that her assailants had put her against a metal table.

Her wrists felt frozen but she didn’t yet have the strength to move her head to look. Angela could barely make out the sound of a man speaking somewhere nearby; she couldn’t hear a word above the ringing. An exhausted puff of air escaped her lips. She willed the image she was looking at to come into focus. After another undeniably long length of time, Angela was able to raise her head a little; her movements were sluggish, almost cautious. Her face was stiff and crusty. She added blood loss and skin abrasions to her mental list of injuries to check up on.

Her wrists were handcuffed to the table. _No wonder they’re so cold…_ She sat in an uncomfortable chair with her torso leaning over the table. A softly-lit, white lamp bore down upon her from above. The walls of the small room were barren and hard to make out in the darkness outside of the lamplight; it was hard to discern what color they were, but Angela thought she could detect a few drops of blood splattered on the wall to her right. The brilliant chrome table’s surface reminded her of ice, further adding to the chilling sensation of the room.

Angela felt like she was chained in a meat locker.

“You look confused.”

Starled, Angela looked straight ahead. For the first time, she noticed a well-dressed man sitting opposite her. His shining black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, with two thick locks left out to frame his tanned, stern face. Dark, winged eyebrows sat above hooded russet eyes. A thin-lipped mouth frowned beneath a sharp, arched nose. Angela could sense a raw power leaking off his massive shoulders, as if he knew he could crush her between his fingers if he felt like it. His suit and tie were impeccably pressed and well-tended.

_An . . ._ interrogation _?_ she thought, baffled. _Why?_

“What troubles you?” His resonating voice seemed to wipe away a foggy film from Angela’s mind. He sounded calm, almost quiet, like a panther not wanting to startle it’s prey.

She recognized his accent. _Japanese? Am I in Japan?_

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she should speak, or even could. After a brief pause, she croaked, “Where am I?” _I sound so weak_ , she thought, disgusted.

“Where do you think you are?”

Angela wasn't sure what to think of that. “. . . who are you?”  

He seemed unfazed by her unwillingness to answer his question. “Who do you think I am?”

The man’s words set Angela on edge. She could feel the cold sweat running down her neck. “I don’t know.”

His face didn’t move, but she could detect a glint in his eyes. Amusement? “You know exactly who I am.”

She frowned, lips parting a little. She’d never seen this man in her life, she was sure of it. _What game is he playing?_ “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Angela spoke slowly, deliberately. She didn’t know who this man was or what he wanted, but she’d be sure to stay as calm as possible. _I can panic later,_ she thought, _now’s the time to find out what I can…_

There was an arrogant sneer in the man’s voice. “He buys you all these expensive gifts, treats you like a queen and you are trying to tell me you don’t know where you are, who I am, or what I want?”

Angela blinked. What? _I don’t have a husband or a boyfriend or anything. Who could he be talking about?_ “I think you might have me confused for someone else—”

The man chuckled. “I do not think so.”

“Who do you think I am?” Angela asked after another confused pause.

“Angela Ziegler.” His confidence was unwavering.

_Well he’s got that right, at least._ Not knowing what else to do, she asked, “What am I doing here?”

The man looked even more amused now. “You know the answer to all these questions you ask.”

“. . . I assure you I don’t.”

The glint faltered a little, a crack of uncertainty in his bronzed porcelain resolve. “Shall I spell it out for you?”

“Please do.”

He gazed at her a moment before standing and beginning a slow walk around the room. “Last month,” he began, “my agents arrived at the agreed spot to complete a trade with your people. For a hefty price, we were to hand over the personal records of Japan’s top officials.”

Several things caught her attention in that statement from him but she focused her energy on stabilizing her breathing. _One thing at a time, one thing at a time..._ “‘My people’?”

“Precisely.”

“…what for?”

“Both parties agreed to no questions asked. I assume it was for nefarious purposes.”

“…you handed over information like that for _money_?” she said, aghast. “What if they get assassinated?”

The man shrugged. “A few of them have been a thorn in my side at one point or another. I would be glad to be rid of them.”

_I’ve been kidnapped by a Japanese mob,_ Angela realized. She felt her heartbeat falter, panic pounding on the edges of her sanity. _Stay calm, Angela, stay calm, keep your head…_

It was a while before she said anything. “So what happened?”

The man stopped to Angela’s left, his back to her. She could see his fists, folded neatly in the small of his back, clench. “Your people took the information, handed over less money than was agreed upon, injured my agents, and fled the scene,” he snarled. “Who knows where they escaped to but I have no doubt the information ended up in the hands of your superior.”

“And who exactly is ‘my superior’?”

“Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

♦

The hovercycle pulled into the garage with its telltale _vroom_. It’s driver dismounted, tossed his keys and jacket to the attendant, and moved towards the door. “Welcome home, Master Shimada,” the attendant said with a deep bow.

“Afternoon, Kaito,” the driver said. The attendant could sense a suppressed growl in the young master’s voice. “Where’s Hanzo? I need to talk to him about firing Enrique, that man does _not_ understand the angles I look best from.”

“Master Hanzo is in the interrogation room, sir.”

That caused the young master to stop. “Don’t tell me,” he warned.

Kaito nodded. “They got her last night.”

The young master theatrically buckled his knees and threw his head back. “ _Nooooooo_ why did he do it?!” he groaned, grabbing his hair.

“The Master is very stubborn, sir.”

The young master let out a string of curses. “She’s going to bring more trouble than she’s worth.” he growled, marching through the door and across the yard of Shimada Castle. Nearby clan members and servants all saluted and bowed when he passed, but he was too angry to stop and greet them all properly.

Descending the stairs into the rooms and passages below the castle, the young master burst through a door into a room filled with computer screens that showed the feed from all the surveillance cameras around the castle. The three workers were currently clustered around one screen that showed the live feed from the interrogation room. At the young master’s arrival, they all hopped to their feet at once to bow. “Save it,” he said. All three men smiled to themselves and took their seats again. “What has he gotten out of her?”

“Nothing, by the looks of it,” one man said. “She must be more stubborn than we anticipated.”

“Or she just _doesn’t know anything_ ,” the young master deadpanned, leaning in close to observe the screen. Hanzo stood at the side of the table; when he moved closer to his empty chair, a woman came into view. She was handcuffed to the table and looked like she had some sort of cut on her forehead that had bled profusely, leaving a trail of crusted blood down the side of her head.

He remembered the conversation he’d had with Hanzo last week where he’d adamantly insisted this woman wouldn’t know a damn thing about Reinhardt’s underground activities. Had Hanzo listened to him? Obviously not. “Why isn’t the audio on?”

“Hanzo told us to keep it off.”

“What’d he do that for?”

“Probably doesn’t want anyone backseat-interrogating for him.”

The young master chuckled. “Turn it on for me, will ya?”

One of the men flipped a switch and the speakers immediately crackled to life.

The woman’s jaw dropped in awe. “…my _grandfather_?”

“She’s speaking English?” the young master said, more to himself than the others.

The woman scoffed. “He’s no _criminal_ , he’s a philanthropist! He doesn’t steal people’s money, he gives his own away freely to those who need it. He’s helped countless charities, runs an honorable business—”

“Damn, girl, did he ask for a resume?” the young master said, earning a snicker from the workers. “Where is she from again?”

“Switzerland.”

“She probably speaks some Japanese; why didn’t he open with that?”

The young master observed his elder brother wave his hand. “It is all a front. It is the nature of these things.”

The woman didn’t reply for a moment. “Alright,” she began, “let’s just say my grandfather _happens_ to be a mob boss like you; where do _I_ fit into this picture?”

Hanzo moved to take a seat without a word.

“You still haven’t told me where I am, who you are, and what you want with me.”

“He’s not gonna like that tone you’re using, sweetheart,” the young master cautioned, grinning.

“We’re using you as leverage.”

“…you’re _ransoming_ _me_?”

“I want my money, Miss Ziegler. You’re going to help me get it.”

“Well if that isn’t something straight out of a movie—” the young master straightened, took off his gloves, and threw them on the table. “I’m going in.”

“He’ll roast you, sir,” one of the workers cautioned.

“I can’t let her be the only one pushing his buttons!” he called over his shoulder as he moved back to the door. “He’ll start to forget _I’m_ the only one who can do that!”

♦

Angela couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t believe a word of it, not in the slightest. _Opa, a mob boss?! He must be out of his mind!_ In her disbelief, her panic was momentarily forgotten. She found herself asking, “What makes you think he’ll pay you?”

“As Wilhelm’s last living family," the man said, getting comfortable, "I can guarantee he’ll want to keep you safe. After all, he does appear to spoil you fiercely. A flat in Paris, designer clothing, a private facility to fund your research. What was his name for you? ‘ _Hasilein_ ’ wasn’t it?”

Angela felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “How did—”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to lose you like he lost your mother.”

She froze. The sweat on her face and neck felt like scorching oil.

The man fixed her with those dark eyes. “Yes, we know all about you, Miss Ziegler.” He folded his hands on the cool tabletop and leaned forward. “I would recommend giving your full cooperation in this process. With a bit of luck, you can go home with as little damage as possible.”

The heat that had been so quick to rise just a moment ago drained from Angela’s face like dirt washed away by a summer rain. She was grasping at her thoughts, trying to figure out what to say, when the door behind her burst open and a man entered, yelling, “ _Hanzō_! Watashi wa anata ga kurōba o yameta tokoro enrike, no sewa o suru hitsuyō ga arimasu ka?”*

Angela and the interrogator jumped at the same time. Her body was too sore to turn around quickly enough to see the intruder, but judging by the sudden fire in the eyes of the well-dressed man, she could tell he wasn’t happy. The intruder had spoken too fast for her to really catch what he said. The well dressed man threw back a string of angry Japanese at the intruder.

The intruder sounded intrigued when he spoke again. _Oh are you now?_ he’d said, if Angela translated correctly. She could imagine a coy smirk following that question. A figure appeared to her left, and she looked up into the face of an extremely handsome man who was even more well-dressed than her interrogator.

His hair was the first thing she noticed about him: it curved back from his forehead in beautifully groomed, softly pointed locks, black at the roots and emerald green at the tips. _Crested, like a bird_ , she thought. Bronzed skin lay over marvelously defined facial features. Oddly enough, his eyebrows were dark, thick, and winged just like her interrogator’s. His eyes were deeper though, a more soothing shade of brown that reminded Angela of chocolate, and framed by a border of professionally-applied, black eyeliner. He wore a black button-down shirt with the top two buttons open (giving Angela a view of his exquisite neck and chest), a pair of black slacks, nice dress shoes, and a silver necklace on which hung a pendant with an unrecognizable design. _The mob’s symbol?_ Angela wondered.

“And who might you be?” he smiled. The satin voice of a man who’d wooed thousands of women with one word came out from behind those diamond white teeth and elegant lips, melting Angela down to her bones.

She just stared at him, trying to find her voice. Her headache had miraculously disappeared. _Where does he fit into the mob?_ she wondered, awestruck. _He looks like a model._

Her interrogator had no problem finding his voice, snapping at the intruder in a vicious tone. Angela snapped out of the green-haired man’s spell, kicking herself in the butt. She’d never understand what they were saying if she was so distracted.

The black and green haired man replied, not taking his eyes off of Angela’s. _Shoot ended early,_ she thought he’d said.

_‘Shoot’? Like a photo shoot?_ Angela thought, dumbfounded, _So he_ is  _a model?_

The interrogator sighed, obviously frustrated. “Genji this is—”

“Let the lady speak for herself, Hanzo,” the green haired man said, holding a hand out. He turned back to Angela and smirked gently. “Go on,” he whispered.

Hanzo sighed, folded his arms, and sat back in his chair.

“Angela,” she finally croaked.

“Angela,” Genji purred, her name flowing off his accent tongue vividly. “ _Tenshi_!”

_‘Angel’_ , she thought. Hanzo rolled his eyes. _Is he flirting with me? Is this part of the interrogation?_

“Hanzo, what is this?” Genji asked, furrowing those majestic eyebrows of his and pointing to her handcuffed wrists.

Hanzo ignored him, rubbing his temples. _Will you leave now?_ he growled.

Genji pleaded, motioning to the whole of Angela and raising a hand to his heart. _‘You chain an angel to the earth’,_ Angela mused as Genji straightened and whistled in the direction of the door. _How poetic._

He commanded, _Release these handcuffs at once!_

_No!_ Hanzo shouted, rising.

Angela barely understood his next string of Japanese but it sounded like Genji needed to get out before Hanzo threw him out.

He and Genji argued zealously for a moment. There were too many syllables for Angela to follow along but as soon as she sensed a lull in their dispute she cut in, “If it’s all the same to you—”

They both froze, their eyes fixed on her.

“—I’d like to go now.” When no one made a move, she steeled herself and continued, “I believe I suffered some injuries at the hands of my kidnappers and I’d like to retire to address them properly.” Her voice was quiet. She knew she was breaking. _I can’t take much more…_

Hanzo frowned. “I’m not finished with you—”

_Let her go, Hanzo._ Genji cut in. _You’ve tortured her enough for one day. Let her rest._

The heat from Hanzo’s eyes scorched Angela’s cheeks. _I don’t take orders from you._

“You should realize by now that I don’t have the information you want,” Angela offered, almost pleading.

Genji grinned. He looked at Hanzo with that innocent smile and said, _I like her._

_You like anything with breasts,_ grumbled Hanzo.

Angela felt the redness return to her cheeks.

_Not true,_ Genji offered reasonably. _I don’t like you._

She had to resist snorting at that comment. Genji flashed her a look out of the corner of his eye and winked. _He knows I understand,_ she thought, her blood running cold. _Damn._

Angela looked back to Hanzo and immediately looked away. _If looks could kill…_

_Out!_ he barked, looking like he could spit fire at any moment.

Genji threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. _Fine, fine._ He reached down and cradled Angela’s chin in his warm hand. “Until we meet again, _tenshi_ ,” he cooed, lips quirking into a crooked but somehow genuine smile, and strut from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela Ziegler, keeping it real even after being kidnapped. What a woman.
> 
> Dammit Genji, Hanzo finally got that perfect interrogation mood going and you ruined it! >:U
> 
> *When Genji first comes into the interrogation room his line is supposed to be: “Hanzo! I need to take care of Enrique, where did you leave the crowbar?” I know Google Translate is not very accurate so I’m going to be using it as little as possible but in this one case I found it unavoidable.  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ that line is just too pure to leave out.


	3. Moonlight Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji sneaks Angela out of her cell. Flirting ensues.

**** The cell they have given Angela was as barren as her interrogation room. The only things in the room were a short cot and a toilet; both sat against the far wall. A row of bright white fluorescent lights ran the length of the room, humming softly. The white tiles on the floor were cool against her toes. Her captors had stripped her of her shoes, socks, jewelry, coat—anything that could have made her feel more protected than her dark jeans and ruffled, white button-up.

Angela held her head, feeling the newly-stitched gash on her temple; Hanzo at least had the grace of allowing their on-site doctor to clean that up for her, but the doctor did nothing about her headache, parched throat, or tiredness.  _ I suppose I don’t really need him to tell me what to do,  _ she’d thought at the time.  _ I am a doctor too; if I can’t prescribe cures for my own suffering then no one can. _

The guard who escorted her removed her handcuffs and left without a word. Angela heard the scraping  _ THUNK! _ of the heavy iron bar being secured on the other side of the door, but it sounded worlds away. It was as if her mind was floating through the air, completely detached from her body.

She reached out for the wall, trembling so fiercely it was a miracle she was still standing. Angela felt the tears begin to trickle down her face, slowly at first, but with each quake of her chest came a new cascade of rain. She fell to the floor, curling in on herself to try and keep her ribcage from collapsing. That voice she was hearing, those pained, frightened cries—did they belong to her?

After a short time, Angela felt herself leveling out, steadily climbing up from the cavernous vaults of despair that had imprisoned her just seconds before. She tried forcing herself to breathe through her nose but her nasal cavity was so full of mucus from crying that she coughed with the effort. Wiping her nose on her sleeve and using the other sleeve cuff to wipe away her tears, she sat up, pressing her back against the wall. 

Angela growled and reached up to yank her ponytail out when she felt it bump the wall. Her pale hair fell down around her, kinked and unseemly. She rested there for a while, regaining her bearings. The cot and toilet were still there, the fluorescent lights still buzzed above her, the door was still closed.  _ You’re alright, Angela, you’re alright, you can do this… _

The doctor looked down at her red wrists, irritated from the sharp steel handcuffs. She could feel her arteries pulsing beneath her skin and twined her fingers together in a hard embrace. 

_ You can do this… _

♦

“How is she?”

The attendant started, looking over his shoulder in alarm. He relaxed when he saw it was only Genji. “I didn’t hear you come in, sir.”

Genji swung a chair towards himself before sitting in it backwards with his arms folded over the back. His dark eyes remained fixed on the screen that showed the feed from Angela’s room. She lay curled up on her cot, her back to the camera.

It had been a few days since she’d been brought to Hanamura. Hanzo and Genji had both left her completely alone, but for different reasons. Hanzo wanted to break her by keeping her in constant confinement; Genji had been so busy with important dinners, luncheons, and meetings that he’d barely gotten an hour to sleep. The younger Shimada had a feeling his brother was booking him like that to decrease the chance of Genji doing anything Hanzo didn’t want him to.  _ Can’t wreck shit if I’m not here _ , Genji mused, irritated.

“She’s alright, I suppose. She sleeps a lot,” the attendant shrugged.

_ She’s not sleeping now, _ the younger Shimada thought as he studied the screen, curious.  _ What are you thinking, angel? _ “She’s eating?” Genji asked.

“She was wary at first, but she cleans every plate.”

The younger Shimada rubbed his chin a moment in thought. “What did Hanzo say about her leaving the room?” Genji knew exactly what, but he was curious as to the exact orders his brother had given the rest of the force.

“The Master intends to crush her spirit; she’s not supposed to leave.”

_ Looks like he’s consistent. _ Genji tried to hide a small smile. Hanzo had always been that way, even when they were boys practicing their martial artistry together. “It makes you predictable!” Genji used to taunt his brother.

Hanzo would scowl at him. Even in his early days he’d been such a stick in the mud. “Father says you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest—”

“‘It’s the honest ones you ought to watch out for,’” Genji would quote the rest of the saying right back, imitating his father’s deep, booming voice. “‘You never know when they’re going to do something incredibly stupid.’ Ha! Don’t worry, brother; I’ll be dead long before you decide to break even a simple rule!”

The Young Master shook himself from his memories, suddenly feeling rather melancholy.  _ Need to cheer myself up _ … “I’m going to go say hello.”

“No one’s allowed in there, sir,” the attendant barked, rising to his feet a moment after Genji rose to his own. “Master’s orders.”

Genji rolled his eyes. “Younger Master says ‘Give me 5 minutes’.”

“I can’t do that, sir.” The attendant placed a hand on Genji’s shoulder and turned him back so they were facing each other. He pleaded, “The Master will have my head if anyone gets in there—”

“You’re Nakata, aren’t you?” Genji cut in. 

The attendant stopped. He stuttered a moment before bowing. “Yessir.” 

“How is your daughter?”

Nakata looked up, eyes wide like a doe caught in the headlights of a truck. “Uh… she’s—” he gulped. “—she’s…recovering.”

Genji nodded solemnly. “Perhaps we can look into getting a cybernetic eye for her.”

Nakata froze.  _ How does he know about the accident? _ “Sir—”

“Consider it your raise for this year, but only if you turn off the feed from the girl’s room and let me chat with her for a while. Deal?”

“…would you really, sir?”

Genji Shimada saluted the attendant. “Dragon’s honor.”

Nakata stared at the floor for a moment before he reached over and pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. Several symbols flashed on the screen, letting Genji know that the camera had frozen and the microphone had stopped recording. The young master smiled. “I’ll have to examine that tape before I can sign off on the medical authorization. Bring it to my quarters after your shift and we’ll go over the details.”

With that, Genji turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

Nakata couldn’t believe his ears. He’d heard rumors from the other guards that Genji was the more generous one when it came to spreading the Shimada wealth, but he’d never believed it. The young master always appeared so arrogant; even when he was being generous, it was only for his own personal gain. Nakata supposed it was the same thing here, but it felt different somehow. What did he have to gain by chatting with a prisoner for a while?

♦

Angela hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t turn around when Genji entered, nor when he closed the door. He could tell by the nuanced creases in her blouse, the way her back must be resting beneath the cloth: she still wasn’t asleep.

“Good evening.”

Silence.

“How are you feeling?”

She didn’t make a sound.

“I apologize for the lack of things to do in here,” he offered, hoping to get some response out of her.

Angela didn’t move at all, gave no indication that she’d heard him. 

Genji continued cautiously, “My brother doesn’t want anyone disturbing you.”

“He wants me to rot in here,” she stated. Somehow, Angela’s voice still sounded steady, as if she were looking over a medical report. 

For the first time in a very long time, Genji found himself lost for words.

“I don’t know when I’ll ever see my grandfather again,” she continued, softer than before, as if she wasn’t even talking to him. Angela felt her eyes watering and tried her best to hold back the tears. “I refuse to believe he’s the terrible person you say he is. It’d can’t be true. He’s a caring, supportive, wonderful man, not some despicable monster.” 

_ What can I say to that?  _ Genji thought nervously, rubbing the back of his head. 

Luckily, Angela continued on her own, her voice finally beginning to crack. “Will I ever see my home again? Be able to run into my Opa’s arms and roll around in the fields with him? Feel the sunlight on my face?” In the end, she broke with a shudder, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her face in her knees. Her muffled sobs seemed to bounce of the walls of her cell, pounding her body on their way by. 

_ Sunlight? _ A thought suddenly occurred to Genji.  _ Yes, this is good. _ “Well, I don’t know about sunlight,” he cooed softly, throwing his best charm into his voice, “but how do you feel about moonlight?”

She sniffed. “What?” Angela croaked, looking up at him. Genji had moved closer to her cot. 

“Well I’d have to get rid of the guard outside your door somehow,” he rambled, a cocky lilt to his tone. “Might be a little hard to get by without arousing suspicion, but definitely not impossible.”

Angela didn’t answer, just stared at him with bloodshot blue eyes.

Genji’s dark eyes flashed, his smile mischievous.  _ I’ll have to be extra sneaky to evade Hanzo, but that’s definitely part of the fun!  _ he thought. “I think some fresh air will do you good. What do you say?”

Angela blinked, as if she’d been stunned. “What?”

“Ha!” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll be back in—” Genji checked his watch. “—seventeen minutes.”

With that, he ran back to the door and exited, leaving Angela in the stark silence of her cell.  _ He’s _ … _ letting me out? _ she wondered, sitting up.  _ I don’t believe it. I can’t. There has to be a catch _ …

She ran a hand through her pale hair. Slowly, she lowered her feet to the ground and tried to stand. A wave of nausea sent her reeling back onto the cot. After a few moments of deep breathing, she stood again, slowly this time. She paced around the cell, yawning and stretching her aching spine.  _ I’m so tired _ .

Angela mused, rolling her shoulder. _ The other man said I wouldn’t be let out. What’s his angle? Is he trying to be the ‘good cop’ to the other man’s ‘bad cop’?  _ She threw up her arms in exasperation. _ They’re not going to get anything out of me! When will they see that?! _

She busied herself with tying her hair back into its ponytail, trying her best to not raise her arms too much. She hadn’t showered in days and the smell of her own body odor was starting to disturb her.  _ I wish they’d give me some clean clothes _ , Angela thought. 

Flexing her hands, she considered her options.  _ Do I trust him? What will happen to me if I got outside? Will Hanzo torture me?  _ Angela shook her clouded head.  _ I don’t think so. If they really  _ are  _ ransoming me, they wouldn’t dare hurt me for fear of it backfiring later _ …

Genji returned sooner than she anticipated, but she had already made up her mind on what to do about him. He was saying, “Alright, we’ve got about half an hour—”

He was stopped short when she grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him against the wall, her forearm pressed to his collar. If she was honest with herself, Angela was surprised she was able to get a hold of him at all. Her body felt fatigued from the stress of being kidnapped and she’d assumed he’d have at least some degree of martial arts training, considering the pompous manner in which he carried himself.

“What do you want from me?!” she snapped, looking him straight in the eye. He was only as tall as she was.  _ I thought he’d be taller… _

Genji just stared at her, expression blank, but Angela swore she saw a bit of a flush to his cheeks. Before she could continue, he smiled. “Who,  _ me _ ?”

His quirky attitude was only making her angry. “Yes, you! What do you want?”

“I wanna break some rules! Come on!” Genji took her arm, laced his fingers between hers and dragged her stumbling from the room. The fresh air in the hall hit her right in the face, clearing her sinuses in an instant. Angela got a quick glance of the guard outside her door slumped against the wall, unconscious. “I thought you said you’d tip him off?!” she hissed.

“Decided it would be better to get him with a tranquilizing dart. He’ll be fine,” Genji whispered, pulling her close to the wall he was up against. “I hit all the guards with a mild dose. We’ve got about 30 minutes until they all come to.”

“You  _ what _ ?” Angela questioned, aghast.

“They’ll all wake up being very confused, but Hanzo will never hear about it. He’d have their heads if he ever found out they’d been taken out so easily.” She saw him bounce with excitement, almost like rule breaking held a special place in his giddy little heart. 

“What, like no one else is going to notice?!” she hissed.

Genji beamed. “Heh, they probably won’t! I could tell you about it once we get out there, but time is money! Come on!” He rushed out from behind the corner; Angela had to run just to keep up.

Genji pushed open a sliding door, charged up two flights of stairs, and took her down a short hall. On the other side of the wall, Angela could see cherry blossom trees in bloom around a courtyard littered with the fallen pink flowers. Genji looked around both corners, gripped her hand tighter, and made a break for it. They were in the courtyard for a whole two seconds: he hauled her down a side hallway through the wall to the left of the doorway they’d just exited and emerged on a much smaller, thinner courtyard. The smell of the three pines here filled her nostrils and Angela found herself leaning against a small bamboo fountain, breathing deeply. The soft sounds of crickets, trickling water, and distant traffic floated into her ears, helping to calm her racing heart. She no longer cared about the unconscious guards.

“I didn’t think I’d miss the feeling of grass this much,” she laughed softly, digging her bare feet into the cool pillows of green grass at her feet.

Genji stood a few feet away, watching her dip her hands into the fountain to wash them. She was so excited to see clean water.  _ I wonder what that feels like… _ he mused.

Angela closed her eyes and splashed the water on her face. She laughed, rocking back onto her heels and falling flat on her back. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, a content smile spreading clear across her tired face. 

“Now now, don’t forget the reason I brought you out here,” he said, crossing to her other side and taking a seat on the grass beside her.

She opened her eyes, cocked her head. Genji smirked, looking up into the sky. Angela followed his gaze and found her breath stolen away by the sight of the full moon rising just over the rooftops of the castle. The stars burned bright around it, like a gown of silver and black diamond. She gazed at the sky, enchanted. 

Slowly, Angela found her eyes drawn back to Genji. The white glow of the moon illuminated his face, his shining eyes. Their gazes met for a moment..

“Why are you doing this?” she breathed. “You could get in a lot of trouble for this.” Angela’s voice was quiet, almost intimidating. She rose, propping herself up on her hands. “Why bother?”

Lost for words, Genji found himself shrugging, praising the darkness for hiding his pink cheeks. “I like breaking rules,” he confessed.  _ Caught red-handed. _ “Especially when they’re my brother’s.”

She cocked her head again. “You two seem so different. It’s hard to think you’re related as closely as you say you are.”

“A lot of people say that,” he grinned nervously, twirling some grass in his fingers.

“I’m serious,” Angela said. “Your brother’s so stern, like he was born to lead a mob. You’re…always smiling.”

“He basically was. My father started training him the day he was born.”

“Why not you?” she asked. The moonlight brushed the tired hurricane away from her eyes, revealing the bright blue sea below. “How’d you get away with this rule-breaking spirit of yours?” Angela thought it odd that she was even having this heartfelt conversation with him.  _ I didn’t trust him a minute ago. What changed that? _

He shrugged, looking down at the grass. “I’m the younger brother,” he admitted, pausing. “I’m only important if Hanzo is incapable of leading the Clan.”

“So what? They let you roam free doing whatever you want?”

That wide, boyish grin returned to light up his face. “Oh I never said that,” Genji teased. “I  _ do _ have a job here, a very important one for that matter.”

“What is it?” Angela asked, wary but intrigued.

“Guess.”

She rolled her eyes, but found that she couldn’t keep from smiling. “I’m not good at guessing.”

“Just guess!”

Angela thought a moment; she found it increasingly hard to concentrate with Genji staring at her with those large brown eyes of his. “Mailman?”

Genji shook his head. “Guess again,  _ tenshi _ .”

“Barber?”

“Nope. Think outside the mob,” he purred.

“You have a job  _ outside _ the mob that  _ pertains _ to the mob?” she deadpanned.

“Yes I do. Keep guessing.”

“…dog groomer? Accountant?”

“Oh come on—” Genji laughed, rocking back and forth. “You can get this! What do I look like to you?”

Angela stopped, forced to inspect him. His flawless skin, that professionally-dyed hair, that striking eyeliner that framed his puppyish eyes so superbly— “A model,” she blurted out.

They stared at each other for a second before Genji’s face broke out in the biggest grin she’d seen from him all night. 

“No,” she deadpanned, utterly dumbfounded. Angela couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You  _ can’t _ be.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen my face around Paris before?”

Angela paused, recalling the shopping trip she’d been on a little over a week ago. Had it really only been that long? She opened her mouth to speak but stopped short. Well there had been that one poster near the dressing room that seemed familiar…

And the one in the window of the store across the street…

And the one in the coffee shop…

“Those couldn’t have been you,” she retorted sharply, trying her best to hide her smile. Genji had to hold his sides to keep from bursting into a giggle fit. “I don’t believe you!”

“Believe it, Angel!” Genji breathed, falling on his back and kicking his feet in silent laughter.

“How does modeling pertain to  _ the mob _ ?” Angela demanded, crawling closer so she could look down on his cocky face. “Answer me that!”

“Every mob needs a civilized front,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “My father noticed how flirty I was when I was young and how all the girls in the neighborhood loved me so he thought ‘hey, we can make money off this kid’ and the rest is history. Started our own fashion line and everything.”

“Is that so?” she asked, brows flying up. “What’s it called?”

He bit his lip and purred, “Take a look at your pants.”

Angela’s face fell. Genji got a kick out that expression of hers. “I can’t believe you wore  _ my own brand _ in  _ my own house _ ,” he teased, giggling. “You must be a  _ huge _ fan!” 

Angela sat back on her bottom and looked away in amazement. She would never admit that these were the comfiest jeans she’d ever owned.  _ He doesn’t need to know _ . “I can’t believe,” she began, flashing him a coy look from the corner of her eye, “that your ‘brand’ is a play on your name.”

He stopped.

_ Got him. _ Now it was Angela’s turn to laugh. “‘ _ Ganji _ ’? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” 

Genji sat up. “I was  _ twelve _ , thank you very much!”

“You father let you name it?!” she cried, trying to hide her smile behind her hand.

“He was very supportive of my efforts.”

Angela snorted, holding up a hand. “Alright, let me see if I understand: your  _ mob job _ is looking pretty all the time?”

“Not at all, though—” he ran his hand through his hair with a heavily theatrical air “—that is a big part of it,” Genji winked at her, earning a roll of the eyes from Angela. “Someone has to be the face of the clan outside mob operations,” he offered, more reasonably this time. “I speak on behalf of the Shimadas on any public occasion; my presence never goes unnoticed. I’m also kind of a gateway for secret operations; anyone who wants to get to Hanzo has to get through me first.”

“Sounds like an _important_ _job_ for a _model_ ,” Angela teased, fluttering her lashes and keeping her voice low. “I’m surprised your hair isn’t grey.”

He hissed, pressing a hand to his heart. “If you think I over-exert myself and risk damaging this natural beauty for the welfare of my brother, you’re sorely mistaken, my dear.”

“So the green is natural?”

Genji smirked. “The black is.”

“And the eyeliner?”

“Brings out my soul-melting eyes,” he purred, his eyes alluringly half-lidded.

Angela scoffed, not buying one bit of it. “And the bronzer?”

Genji looked wounded. “ _ Angela _ , you think this golden glow in my skin isn’t natural?”

“I think you wear on awful lot of makeup for a mobster,  _ Genji _ .”

He tsked, flicked his head away. “Guilty as charged.”

Angela covered her smiling mouth with her hand, trying hard not to snort. Genji looked back at her, smiling as well. “You’re ridiculous,” she sputtered. 

He was about to reply but stopped abruptly, smile falling away, eyes fixated on something behind her. Angela stopped and turned. A black shape she’d never noticed before lay a little ways away. She couldn’t make it out in the darkness, but its outline was slowly moving around. 

“I think that’s our cue.” 

She jumped. Genji had gotten right up in her ear to whisper that. Her hands were already in his.  _ Must be the guard, _ Angela thought as he pulled her to her feet and led her back the way they had come. 

As soon as they passed the sliding door and into the grey halls beneath the castle, she felt the familiar feeling of foreboding drop itself on her shoulders. By the time they made it back to her door, she felt the gray of her cell beginning to drown her. Angela never imagined the moon could be as warm as it had been just moments ago, but she found she already missed its silvery touch. Every breath she took felt like she was working the bellows of an ancient forge made to cast the iron limbs of the Colossus. 

When Genji opened the door, she stood there staring into it for quite a while. He studied the barrage of emotions dash across her face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she just been told that someone she cared about had passed away.

“Angela,” he cooed, tugging gently on her hand.

After another pause, she ducked her head and marched into her cell. Her bare feet, accustomed to the feel of the grass outside, froze upon contact with the tiles. She stopped just inside the door, bringing her arms up to cradle herself.  _ So cold… _

“We should do this again sometime.”

Angela turned, her eyes falling upon Genji’s. After a moment, she felt the edge of her lips quirk just a little. Genji thought her eyes, already glazed over with despair, shone a bit brighter.

“I’d like that,” she whispered.

He smiled softly, pulling the door closed. It took all his effort to pull the bar down into the lock position. “You chain an angel to the earth,” he’d told Hanzo the other day. At the time, Genji knew he was just being a melodramatic pain in the ass, but he’d never thought his words would come back to haunt him.  _ I lock an angel in hell _ , he thought. 

_ What makes me any different from him? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genji you smooth piece of shit I cannot believe
> 
> Was that a subtle Pirates of the Caribbean reference? Mm yes, yes it was.
> 
> The joke is that there’s an actual clothing line named Ganji, and I only know that because my friend sells it in her clothing store.
> 
> All comments and kudos and other such feedback are greatly appreciated! ^^


	4. Moonlight Rendezvous, Part 2: The Ramen Escapade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji takes Angela out a ramen shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is garbage ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ this is basically just an extension of last chapter. 
> 
> I tried my best but I guess we'll save heartfelt conversations and plot for later

 

Genji took Angela out of her cell twice more after that. Each excursion was always a few days apart and every time Genji made sure to take her to a new part of the castle.

On the second trip out, he took her to an open-aired, wood-floored courtyard and sat on a wide wooden staircase close to the passage they'd entered from. By this point, Angela had her bearings straight and was asking all sorts of logical questions. Genji laughed at her, but answered her questions as they came. She discovered she was being held in Shimada Castle, she'd been kidnapped nearly two weeks ago, and the Shimada's hadn't yet posted her ransom notice. They did receive word from their men in Germany that Reinhardt was going mad in her absence; he had his own agents hunting all over Europe for her. Apparently, he didn't suspect the Shimada's were responsible.

"Do you know how much the ransom is?" she'd asked on the second outing.

Genji did know. He'd been there when Hanzo and his consultants were fussing over the numbers. "He hasn't told me," he shrugged.

Angela asked, grinning sheepishly and hugging her legs closer to her chest, "Is it silly of me to hope it's not too much?"

Genji chuckled softly. "A little. But I think you're worth it to him."

She kept her thoughts on that to herself; instead, she chose to ask, "How much longer do you think it'll be before he posts it?"

"Hanzo likes lighting fires under people's asses," Genji offered rather solemnly. "Could be a few more weeks."

"I wish this whole thing was over," she mumbled after a pause.

"You'll be home sooner than you think, don't worry."

If Angela was honest with herself, her stay here at the castle was uneventful to the point of being boring, but the thought that she was completely at the mercy of Hanzo was ever present in her mind. The only thing she could look forward to was the thought of going home. Well… that and her short outings with Genji. The fashion model mobster was definitely the most likeable person she'd ever met. Whenever she saw him she couldn't help but smile.

Even now he had a sweet little reassuring smirk on his lips.

Angela wrinkled her own lips to keep from smiling; unfortunately, it didn't do her any good. "You know," she said softly, "I think your smiles are contagious."

Genji laughed, throwing his head back. He sidled up next to her and bumped her shoulder playfully. "I'd say you're just falling for me."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," she chuckled, putting a hand on his face and pushing him back on the steps.

"Don't lie, I can tell you have a crush on me," Genji purred, laying seductively on the wooden stairs and fixing Angela with his chocolatey gaze. "It's ok, a lot of girls do. I'm irresistable."

"You're too arrogant for my taste, Genji."

"Arrogant, or am I just right?"

She rolled her eyes, facepalming as he giggled.

Between the second and third expeditions, Genji had somehow sanctioned getting new clothes delivered to her, for which she was eternally grateful. Angela's _Ganji_ jeans, as comfortable as they had been, were too dirty for her to be happy wearing them any longer and her shirt was too stained with blood, mucus, and sweat for her liking. Her new t-shirt and leggings, while they weren't designer, were even more comfortable and best of all— _clean_.

On their third outing, the pair traveled to a stone landing on the other side of the Castle grounds. There, they had discussed a whole number of things, many of which were not that important in the overall scheme of things. What Genji did on a daily basis, how often Angela painted her nails, their favorite colors, what life in Paris was like, what work Angela did at the hospital (Genji was surprised to find the executives were forced to give her the largest office in the middle of the building, considering she worked in both the patient ward and research division).

Their fourth escapade was truly a daring adventure, an extremely bold move on Genji's part. He came to her one day with a particular glint in his eye, different from all the last times they'd met. "Uh-oh," Angela said immediately upon noticing it. "Where are we going today?"

Genji's grin was certainly as impish as the glint. "Out."

It took her a moment to process what he'd said. "' _Out_ '? …As in ' _outside the castle_ ' kind of ' _out_ '?"

"Precisely," he said, offering his arm.

Angela looked at it, suddenly hesitant. "Is that ok? We won't get in trouble?"

"Hanzo's out for the night. Has some business meeting to negotiate up in Tokyo. He won't be back until tomorrow."

"You're in charge?"

"Yup."

"What happens if we get caught?"

"We won't."

"No one will squeal on us?"

Genji scoffed. "Of course not. I'm Master when Hanzo's not here. My word is law; everything I say goes."

She shifted uneasily, rubbing her arm. His confidence was both reassuring and entirely not. _He could just be over-confident,_ she thought. _It definitely seems in-character for him._ "I don't know, Genji…"

He chuckled, his grin cocky as ever. "It's completely safe, I promise."

"I don't feel very up to going out," Angela offered, feeling a bit desperate. "I haven't bathed in weeks, my hair's a mess—"

"You think I'd make you go out like this?" He tsked, wounded. " _Tenshi_ , please, give me more credit than that. We're going to get you cleaned up first, _then_ we'll go out."

"Where are we going?"

"The ramen shop across the street. I don't know what Hanzo's been feeding you but it can't be _that_ real," he chuckled.

An idea suddenly crossed her mind. She asked quietly, "You don't think I'll run away?"

"Now don't go getting any ideas," he winked. "I'll catch you before you get too far. You don't know Hanamura like I do."

After another moment in thought, Angela slowly stepped from her cell, twining her arm in his. "Alright."

Genji led her calmly out of her cell and to the end of the grounds she hadn't been to yet. She felt very alert, walking as calmly and as slowly as they were; she had to remind herself that because Genji was in charge, no one would raise a fuss over her.

He had a whole wing of the main castle building to himself, of which his personal quarters took up the entire third story. "What's in the rest of it? Business things, of course."

His bathroom was fathomless. The bathtub was so large she supposed about ten people could fit in it and not be bothered by any of the other bathers. The room itself extended farther into the distance

"What do you need such a large bathroom for?"

He shrugged, smiling. "Why not?" Genji motioned to a smaller door opposite the giant bathtub. "There's some clothes in there for you to change into. We should get going in about half an hour."

"I'll see this that's enough time to make something presentable out of this mess," she smiled, gesturing to herself.

"You'll make it work," he winked, closing the door behind himself.

♦

Her bath was incredibly refreshing. The dress Genji had gotten her was a fitting, black, backless piece of art. He teased her about how she admired herself in it, but he couldn't help but agree that she looked stunning.

On their way out, Angela found herself stopping when they reached the entrance to the castle, staring at the structure directly across the courtyard. She had seen the Shimada Bell on her third trip around with Genji, but it'd been night time and they'd run through the building at the speed of light. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden hue on the deep brown finish of the bell. Genji caught Angela staring at it and offered, "Do you wanna ring it?"

She turned to him. "Can I?"

Genji chuckled, leading her up the steps. "Of course you can." She disengaged from his arm and placed her hands on the cool, polished metal. "The mechanism is over here," he was saying, turning around to motion to the gears on the wall. "It's a little hard to push, but I think between the two of us we can man—"

He looked over his shoulder to give her that coy look of his but stopped short when he noticed she was nowhere in sight. "Angela?"

The courtyard was utterly silent. Genji paced around the bell, calling, "Angela?"

The bell gave a soft, deep _ding_ behind him. He started. Squatting, Genji tilted his head to see underneath the bell, and was surprised to find Angela's black ballet flats standing there. " _You're inside the bell_?" he asked, awed.

Her voice echoed back, sheepish, "Why not?"

After a moment of staring at her lovely ankles in awe, Genji got on his stomach and crawled beneath the edge of the bell to join her. "I can't _believe_ you're this cute," he said, rising carefully to avoid hitting his head on anything. It was utterly dark inside the bell, the only light coming up from the wooden floor's reflection.

Genji barely saw Angela shift in the darkness; he imagined her blushing. "Are you going to help me ring this thing or not?"

"Well I don't know, it's kind of cozy in here." Genji moved around the clapper so he could stand right next to her. "We don't _have_ to go get dinner, you know," he purred.

"Genji I'm very hungry."

"Well what are we waiting for?"

He saw Angela pick up a foot and place it on the clapper. Once he'd done the same, the two kicked it with all their strength. It slammed into the side of the bell, the vibrations rebounding through the air and shaking the two down to their bones.

Once the ringing subsided, Angela and Genji stood there, recovering. "Never imagined I'd do anything like this," Angela breathed.

"Me neither…" Genji's voice was softer than her own. She almost thought she felt his eyes on her, but she just shook it off as the after effects of the ringing.

♦

The Rikimaru Ramen Shop was incredibly packed. Angela was pretty sure she saw Genji slip something into the hand of an attendant in order to gain them seats at the bar right in front of the kitchen. Their food was delicious—she wholeheartedly agreed to eating the ramen but when Genji tried to get her to eat fried squid legs, Angela found she had to draw the line.

"Come on, just one!" he pleaded, holding the leg up before her with his chopsticks.

"Noooo!" she laughed, holding a hand over her mouth. "I refuse!"

"It's not that bad! It actually tastes pretty good."

"I imagine it has the consistency of rubber."

"Well…" Genji looked away, smirking nervously. "It's a bit crunchy too!"

"Crunchy rubber! That sounds terrible!"

"What did a squid ever do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"So what, you feel bad for eating it?"

Despite their arguing, both were grinning like fools. Angela's laugh rang like the sweet sing of a lark, making Genji's heart do a little flutter. "Fine, more for me then," he said to distract himself, biting the leg in half and chewing it with gusto.

Angela cringed. "You've been eating those your whole life?"

"I was _raised_ on squid legs," he growled sarcastically, giving her his smoky eye. "You?"

"Currywurst."

He wrinkled his nose playfully. "What does that taste like?"

"It's fried pork sausage! It's my grandfather's favorite."

Genji squinted. "No wonder you had the pork rib in your ramen," he hissed.

"Guilty as charged," Angela shrugged

"Why have pork when you can have _squid_?"

"I am _not_ eating the squid."

"Would you eat the squid if I agree to eat currywurst?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

Angela giggled. "Because currywurst is actually good!"

"Oh come on, I'm sure we can find a German restaurant in town! If not I'll fly someone out to make it."

"Aw, you'd do that for me?" she teased, pressing both hands to her heart.

"Anything for you, _tenshi_." He fluttered his lashes. A squid leg hovered next to him, taunting Angela.

She eyed it warily, worrying her lip. "I regret this already," she sighed, taking the leg into her own chopsticks and biting off a bit on the end.

Genji wiggled in his seat the second he saw the look of complete and utter regret on her face. After almost a solid minute of anguish, she finally swallowed it and choked out, "You were raised on something _worse_ than rubber."

"You insult me!" Genji claimed, grinning. "I buy you a nice dress, take you out to dinner, and this is the thanks I get?! Slander thrown at my heritage and upbringing?!"

"This feels like an unfair trade," Angela continued, shaking her head and smirking despite having just eaten the grossest thing she'd ever eaten in her whole life. "Currywurst is _much_ better than this."

"I refuse to like currywurst now."

"Oh, now don't think I'm going to let you back out on this—you still have to try it!"

"Oh I'll try it—but I'm going to dislike it simply out of spite."

"What are you going to do if you actually like it?"

"I won't, I give you my word as a Shimada—"

"Which apparently means very little to you."

Genji and Angela froze. Angela noticed Genji pale beneath his makeup. They both turned.

Hanzo stood in the doorway, two bodyguards fixed imposingly behind him.

 _Oh no,_ Angela thought, feeling the winter wind from the outside come in to stroke her bare back. She just noticed the ramen shop had become completely deserted; not even the cooks were still there.

"Hanzo." Genji stated, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. _Shit_. "Why aren't you in Tokyo?"

Hanzo gently took the sunglasses from his eyes and handed them to a bodyguard. "Kazunori couldn't show. I'm glad I made it back in time for your little date. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"We were just leaving."

"Oh you certainly were." Hanzo tilted his head. Both guards moved past him, grabbed Angela roughly by the arms and hauled her towards the door. Genji rose the second they touched her, but Hanzo had stepped forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Genji and Angela shared a quick look before the guards took her completely out of his sight.

"You disobeyed a direct order," Hanzo was growling. Genji looked back at his brother, the two only inches apart. "She could have run away!"

"I would have brought her back," Genji spat back.

"You're too irresponsible for something like that." Hanzo let go of him just as his fist landed against Genji's left jawbone. Genji hit the counter, out of breath, his head throbbing. "I'm having her moved to a different cell," the elder said as he turned and walked out of the ramen shop. "You are completely forbidden from seeing her."

 _Yeah, as if that will keep me away,_ Genji thought, massaging his throbbing jaw.

"Oh, and I'm going to have your hovercycle impounded."

The younger Shimada looked up. "Well… at least home is right across the street."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to start work on the next chapter so hopefully that one will be better than this :P


	5. Hovercycles and Submarines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji screws up and tries to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't come up with a witty chapter title plz forgive me

"And the Yasuhides recieved their shipment in time?" Hanzo asked, gazing over the top of his glasses at the rest of the men sitting around the table.

“Yes Master Shimada, we tracked the container all the way to Sapporo,” one of the elders replied, rising.

Genji laid his head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. This meeting had been going on for _how many hours now_? The entire time, they’d been discussing the same old business. _Why do I even have to be here?_ he thought, resisting the urge to drag a hand down his tired face.

Hanzo had told him his presence was required at today’s meeting; both he and the clan elders were getting tired of the fact that Genji skipped on the last two. “If you want to keep your status in the clan,” Hanzo had threatened, “You’ll need to make _the clan_ your priority, not your frivolous lifestyle.”

“The clan _is_ my priority,” Genji had argued. “While you’re keeping the background in check, I’m busy dealing with the foreground.”

“You need to be involved in both.”

“Isn’t that your job to handle both fronts?”

“You’re my brother and a Shimada, Genji, you need to be able to handle everything in the event that I am unable. How will you handle the background business if you know nothing about it?!”

The younger Shimada sighed, remembering that conversation they’d had on the way up to the conference room. He didn’t look up when a servant came in through the door behind him and handed a note to Hanzo. The elder that was rambling on about their trade with the Yasuhides continued without pause. Genji peaked at Hanzo lazily from the corner of his eye, but became slightly more interested when he saw his brother’s sly smile. _That can’t be good…_

Hanzo rose to his feet, immediately silencing the elder. “Wilhelm has agreed to pay the ransom!” he announced.

Everyone around the table rejoiced at this news, clapping their hands and stating their pleasure to those around them—everyone except Genji. The younger Shimada brother froze in his seat. _I didn’t even know we posted the ransom…_

“We are to meet at the Notori warehouse next Thursday at midnight to complete the trade. Wilhelm will be there to receive the hostage.”

 _Reinhardt is coming himself? That’s…_ Genji mused, rubbing his chin, _rather suspicious, actually…_

“Yakoto!”

A servant at the edge of the room stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “Yes Master?”

“Make sure she is at full health. I don’t want a single thing wrong with her, or we risk inciting Wilhelm’s rage.”

 _‘Full health’? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is Angela alright?_ Genji had found her new location the morning after the incident, but he’d been forced to only slip a note beneath the door telling her he’d found her but didn’t want to arouse suspicion by visiting her. It might force Hanzo to move her again. _She better be alright. I hope they’re feeding her enough…_

“Will we be conducting the trade honorably, Master?” an elder asked.

Another elder chimed in. “We should plan an ambush for them,” he said, furious. “Wilhelm’s agents have soiled our plans on a number of occasions.”

“Not to mention the foul trade that he conducted on the exchange that got us into this whole hostage mess!” a third elder said.

“I like the idea of an ambush,” Hanzo said, stroking his beard in thought.

Genji dared to speak up. “Wilhelm himself is coming; you think they won’t come prepared? I’d think his safety is going to be their main concern for the night.”

Hanzo waved him off nonchalantly. “We’ll have to be even more prepared.”

 _He wants me here, but doesn’t_ want _me here,_ Genji thought, glaring. _Why can’t he make up his mind?_

“I offer to you my ten finest students, Master Shimada,” Elder Mabuchi said. He had trained both Shimada brothers in their martial arts from the moment they were old enough to walk. Genji and Hanzo had been his best students; nothing less than absolute mastery was required of them, and they had both delivered as expected.

“Excellent.” Hanzo motioned to the attendant sitting at the table’s control panel. The attendant wordlessly tapped a few keys; a holographic map of the warehouse in question came up. “We will set up a perimeter to monitor the grounds of the warehouse immediately, to make sure they do not try to sneak in before the appointed date.” He motioned to several different areas on the mountains that the warehouse was nestled between. “Master Mabuchi, your students will be positioned in these locations…”

 _Planning an ambush for Angela’s grandfather eh?_ Genji mused.  _I can guarantee she’s_ not _going to like that…_

As the elders and Hanzo discussed their strategy, Genji thought about a way to fix this. He spoke up, not caring about who he was interrupting, “If we kill Reinhardt on the night of the exchange, what will we do with the hostage?”

“Send her back to Germany,” Hanzo shrugged. “She is of no use to us.”

“She’s the bait, then?”

“Precisely.”

“You don’t think she’ll want revenge?”

“What could she do about it?”

Genji shrugged, straightening in his chair. “She’s his family, no? You don’t think she’ll go back to his organization and lead them in some sort of retaliation?”

“We could kill her too,” an elder chimed in.

“Eliminate all chance of her causing problems in the future,” Hanzo added, pointing his finger at the elder that had spoken.

 _Oh shit,_ Genji paled. _What did I just do?_

♦

Angela had no idea where they’d relocated her after the ramen shop incident. The two guards had stuffed a sack over her head the second they got into the castle grounds and carried her all the way to wherever she was now. From what she could tell, Hanzo just her her moved to a different cell, similar to the one she had before, but a slightly different arrangement. The lack of any sort of visible door was rather unnerving, but she suspected the entrance to the room was right by where the note from Genji had been lying.

New clothes were given to her again. Food was administered regularly. The lights were different though—instead of fluorescents, there were three yellow lamps hanging from the ceiling, running the length of the room. They made everything outside of their reach darker, but at least they warmed her skin if she stood beneath them.

At the moment she sat with her back against the wall, rereading Genji’s note for the thousandth time. She’d never seen him write anything so it was difficult to tell if this was really his handwriting, but who else would leave her a note like this? It was possible that Hanzo would have a note like this crafted to mess with her, but she found it unlikely.

 _Hanzo was never good at hiding things,_ the note read. _I’d always find the things he tried to keep from me when we were boys. Looks like some traits carried over into adulthood for both of us._

Angela found the messy handwriting… somewhat endearing. She had found the note the morning after she’d be relocated, and she’d almost laughed when she read it. If she ever saw him again, she’d be sure to praise him for his hunting abilities.

 _‘When’_ , Angela stubbornly corrected herself, screwing her eyes shut. “ _When_ I see him again,” she whispered, laying her head back on the wall. “Not _if_ ; don’t think like that, Angela! When, when, whe— _aah_!”

She fell flat on her back, staring up into the face of someone very familiar. “Genji!” she gasped.

He smiled. “Took me a while to get here. They hid you pretty deep underground.”

Angela rolled onto her stomach and took a look around. Apparently she’d been leaning against the door to her room; the hallway was just as blank as the hallway to her first room. She grabbed his offered arms, rising but falling into him in the process. He hugged her back tightly, smirking. “Miss me that much, _tenshi_?”

She smiled. “Not _that_ much,” Angela said, getting back on her feet.

Genji chuckled. He reached down, picked up a bag off the top of a small duffel bag by his feet, and thrusted it into her arms. “Get changed. We’re in a bit of a rush.”

“Where are we going?” Angela asked, opening the bag to examine the clothes.

“We’re going out again, but a bit farther this time,” he whispered, turning to peek around the corner of the hall.

“Is that really such a good idea—”

“It’s the best idea I’ve had all week. Get changed, hurry!”

“Genji, what’s going on?” Angela asked, hurriedly exchanging her t-shirt for the soft, black, long sleeved shirt she’d taken out of the bag.

“I told you, we’re leaving,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. She noticed the tenseness in his shoulders.

Angela traded her shorts for the jeans (it did not escape her notice that they were Ganji jeans; she sighed internally. Would he ever change?). “But where are we going?”

“Germany.”

It wasn’t until Angela was pulling on the boots he’d gotten her that she was able to process what he’d just told her. “ _You’re taking me home_?”

“You’re a bit slow today, _tenshi_ , maybe we should get you some food to raise your blood sugar.” He was teasing, of course, but when her stomach growled, Genji turned, one of his eyebrows cocked. “I was joking but ok.”

“Genji, as much as I like the idea of getting home—” Angela shrugged on the blue suede jacket. “—maybe we should just wait for—”

“ _No_ Angela, we’re _not_ waiting. Hanzo’s planning something—”

His frustrated tone also did not escape her notice; was that also nervousness she sensed? “Genji, are you sure—”

“Keep your voice down!” he said, his temper rising. “Are you done? We’re wasting time arguing like this.”

She tied the last lace on her boot and stood, defiant. “How are we going to make it all the way to Germany? Do you know how to fly a plane? Do you have a teleporter?”

“I’m a ninja, Angela, okay? I’ve got my ways.”

She stopped, staring in disbelief. “A _ninja_?” she said, cocking her hip.

Genji straightened defensively. “Look, I know ninja’s have become very cliche in the past few decades but I swear we’re still around. The art is still being taught; I began training at three and became a master at fifteen—”

“Genji this isn’t time for fun and games,” she cut him off, propping her fists on her hips and frowning. “This is serious—”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?”

“I just—a _ninja_?!”

“Ok let’s say for one second that we don’t leave now,” he said, peeking around the corner again to make sure no one had noticed them yet, “do you really want to risk you and your grandfather getting ambushed and killed instead of returning home safely?”

Angela froze. “Hanzo… wants us killed?”

Genji nodded, grabbing her hand. He didn’t dare mention that planting the idea in Hanzo’s head had been entirely his fault. Should’ve just kept my mouth shut. She doesn’t need to know. “C’mon, our ride’s in the garage. We’ve gotta get out of Hanamura before the guards in the control room wake up.”

♦

The garage was filled with vehicles of all sorts. All gleamed brightly, reflecting Angela’s and Genji’s images perfectly as they ran by. Genji brought her to the end of the room where a brilliant, black hovercycle sat.

He opened a compartment in the side and carefully squeezed his duffel bag into it. “What do you have in that thing?” she whispered.

He gave her a look over his shoulder. “My ninja stuff.”

Angela rolled her eyes playfully. She examined the bike. “Don’t these things make a lot of noise?”

“This one’s new,” he whispered back, handing her a helmet off a counter behind the bike. “Silent as they come.”

“Did you buy it with this in mind?”

He shook his head. “I usually like louder ones, but this one had all the features I like plus a little extra so I gave it a pass on the silence. Didn’t think it’d come in handy for a thing like this.” Genji slipped the helmet on and mounted the hovercycle. Angela took a breath to steady herself before placing the helmet on her head and settling in behind him.

Genji flicked a switch and the hovercycle hummed softly to life, it’s hovering bells calibrating the weight of the passengers. “Don’t let me fall off,” Angela said as she picked up her feet and hugged him tightly from behind.

His laugh sounded in the receiver in the helmet. “I’ve got you, _tenshi._  I won’t let you fall again.”

“Again?”

“You fell from heaven the first time, didn’t you?”

She unraveled an arm to slap him on the shoulder. “Just get going.”

Genji chuckled again as he revved the engine and blasted out of the garage, silent as a shadow.

♦

The drive out of Hanamura was nerve-wracking. Genji stuck mostly to dark side streets and alleys, but sometimes they were forced to pass through crowded intersections. He swore no one would recognize them, but Angela always felt like there were eyes boring into her back. She clutched at his black leather jacket whenever they had to stop beneath a light.

Gradually, the city began to thin out and before Angela knew it they were on an open road through the mountainous countryside. She was forced to bend over Genji’s back as he pressed his torso into the gas tank in order to make their whole shape more streamlined. _Don’t want to go flying off the bike, now do we Angela?_  she thought sarcastically, trying to provide as least wind resistance as possible.

Everything was passing them so fast, Angela was forced to gaze up at the sky to ground herself. The stars shone above, but the moon was just a sliver of a smile in the night sky. _I’m free,_ she realized, her eyes shining. _Well, almost. Now we just have to get to Germany…_ She looked at the back of Genji’s helmet, smiling softly.  _I think we can make it._

Genji’s voice was buzzing through the receiver in her helmet. She snapped back to attention. “It’s going to take us about four and a half hours to get to the Nagasaki safehouse,” he was saying. “We can stop in a small town on the way to stretch our legs, eat something, but we need to get to the house as soon as possible.”

“What’ll we do once we’re there?”

“Catch a boat to Shanghai.”

Angela peeked over his shoulder at the speedometer. _251 km/hr,_ she read; she blinked several times, thinking she couldn’t possibly be reading that right. “Are we really going that fast?!”

“What’s the matter, _tenshi_ , you afraid of a little speed?”

She glared at the back of his head, knowing that he was grinning like an idiot. “That’s awfully fast, Genji. What happens if we crash?”

“We won’t.”

Angela bit her tongue, annoyed. She almost snapped at him to stop being so cocky, but decided to hold her complaints for later. Genji needed to focus on not crashing, and if Angela needed to shut up for that to happen she would gladly zip her lips shut.

After nearly two hours, Genji slowed down considerably and pulled into a small gas station on the side of the road to refuel. Angela ran in to use the bathroom. When she returned, Genji handed her a wad of bills and told her to go buy herself a snack that could hold her for another few hours. “We’ve got food in the safehouse you can spend time eating, but right now our priority is getting there,” he told her quietly. “Every minute we spend out in the open here means we’re closer to being caught. Be sure to act like a tourist,” he added before she could walk away. “Casual.”

“Gotcha.”

She returned only a few minutes later as he was screwing the gas cap back onto the bike, a half-eaten box of crackers in her hands. Genji was surprised at the rate at which she polished off the rest of the box. “Did they feed you while you were in that room?” he asked as she threw the box in the trashcan.

“Not enough. Let’s get going. The sooner we’re safe, the better I’ll feel.”

They donned their helmets, mounted the bike, resumed their streamlined positions, and took off down the road. After another couple hours, they arrived in Nagasaki. Genji’s watch told Angela it was around 3am.

The city itself was practically barren. They couldn’t go zooming around at two-hundred-plus speeds down city streets, but the general lack of people and lights made Angela feel more at ease. Genji steered them up a dirt road on one of the mountains right on the oceanside. “Now let’s see if I remember where that rock is…” she heard him mumble. They drove farther along the road, passing a collection of several boulders of varying sizes that all sat at the base of a short cliff.

A thought suddenly occurred to Angela. “Won’t Hanzo know we’re here? Wouldn’t the house have sensors that go off if someone’s inside?”

Pulling the bike to a stop, Genji dismounted and took off his helmet, shaking his head back and forth to put his hair back into place. “Our safehouses were designed to be completely undetectable, unless contact is initiated from within the house. Unless we send a signal to Hanzo telling him we’re here, he won’t have any idea.”

He walked up to the boulders, staring at the collection of smaller rocks at his feet. With the toe of his shoe, he turned one over and exclaimed when it flipped open to reveal a keypad. “Ha!” Genji knelt, tapped a combination of numbers, then hurriedly got back on the bike.

A boulder towards the front of the hovercycle rolled away and a “door” in the cliff face opened up, revealing a passage. Genji hurriedly pulled the hovercycle into the passage; Angela looked behind her just in time to see the door close, completely enveloping the pair in the darkness of the tunnel.

Genji parked the hovercycle and dismounted again, taking Angela’s hand in his own and giving it a little tug to signal it was time to get off. Lights came on above their heads, revealing a small, concrete garage. She pried the helmet off her head and let Genji lead her through the door in the corner into the actual house. “Bathroom is that way,” he pointed with a finger off to his right, flicking on a bunch of light switches. “Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll see about some food, but as soon as you’re done we’re going to take the food and get out.”

“You had me at ‘bathroom’,” she sighed gratefully, running off through the pristine hall in search of the shower.

♦

Angela stood there in disbelief. “When you said boat, I didn’t think you meant… a _submarine_.”

“Your dinner and our freedom awaits, Your Highness,” Genji purred, bowing grandly to the open hatch of the sub. The metallic blue submarine sat in an enclosed “bay” in the basement of the safehouse.

“First you tell me you’re a ninja, then you say we can escape in your own private submarine—what’s next, we got through a teleporter and end up on the other side of the world?”

“It was Grandfather’s idea to get a sub,” the ninja explained. “He always wanted to make sure we’d be able to get away in the event that something happened.” Genji chuckled and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think he planned on a Shimada running from his own family…”

Angela stopped, curious. “You don’t plan on going back?” she asked quietly. 

Genji looked away, shrugging. “I can’t imagine they’d take me back after this.”

“I guess you’re right… ” She looked down, twirling a lock of her damp hair in her finger. _That’s rather sad,_ she thought. _He’s running away from his family as I’m running home to mine…_

“You wanna blow this country or what?” he asked, finally meeting her eyes, a shy smile gracing his lips. “The coordinates are all calibrated; all we have to do is get in and go.”

She looked back at him, smiled softly. “I’d love to.”

Genji offered his hand gracefully. Angela took it and lowered herself into the small submarine—but not before letting out a soft “Thank you,” as she landed a kiss on his tanned cheek. “Oh, what’s this?” she cooed, faking surprise. “No bronzer today, Genji?”

He blushed, biting his lip to keep from letting his smile reach his ears. “Decided to go without it. I knew my natural beauty could woo you over any day,” he purred, winking.

Angela snorted and lowered herself the rest of the way into the submarine. “Sure you did.”

♦

Hanzo sat at his desk, rubbing his beard and scowling at the attendants in front of him. “You’re _certain_ she’s not around the grounds somewhere?”

“No Master Shimada,” one of the attendants spoke, quivering where he stood. All the men that had been knocked out while on duty in the surveillance room fell to their knees, their foreheads pressed into the floor. “Please Master Shimada, have mercy on us,” they chorused.

“Your time here is suspended indefinitely,” Hanzo spoke after a moment of consideration. “You are to remain on the grounds until I decide your punishment. Leave me now. I have some things to consider.”

“Yes Master,” the men chorused, rising to their feet and hurrying out of Hanzo’s office.

The Master of the Shimada clan leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard and scowling, deep in thought. _Miss Zeigler is missing. There is no evidence of a struggle anywhere around her cell. She must have been let out, but by who—_

He stopped, the realization dawning on him. Hanzo leaned forward, buzzing the intercom on his landline. “Yakoto, where is my brother?”

“I have not seen him since the meeting this afternoon, Master,” the voice buzzed back. “I will do my best to locate him right away, sir.”

“See that you do,” Hanzo said, letting his finger off the button. Somehow, he knew no one would be able to find his brother.

“I cannot say I am that surprised…” he admitted softly to himself, fuming. Hanzo sat a moment more in thought, thinking of a plan of action. He picked up his landline and dialed a number on the keypad. The call connected, rang once, twice, thrice…

Just as Hanzo was thinking he’d have to call someone else, the line on the other end picked up and a voice coughed, “ _Hello_?”

“I need you to get someone for me,” Hanzo said. “We can discuss your reward later, but time is of the essence.”

“Shit, Shimada, I’m on vacation—”

“I’ll send a jet for you.”

A whistle. “Must be important. Who’d ya loose?”

“A hostage. I have a feeling my brother is with her. I need you to bring her back before next Thursday.”

“Your brother? Doesn’t that make it okay or something?”

“We can’t expect her people to be ok with us not presenting her on the day of the ransom exchange. Genji’s travelling with her is… unauthorized.”

“He went AWOL?” The man hummed. “Who would’ve thunk.”

“Not exactly; I doubt he has any intention of coming back. I need you to do whatever it takes to bring the hostage back unharmed. Whatever happens to Genji is none of my concern.”

“What in Sam Hill is that supposed to mean?”

“If he’s in your way, get rid of him.”

The man on the other end of the line was silent for a long while. Finally he spoke quietly, “Well, boss’s orders. I’m near Melbourne. What jet should I look for?”

“I’ll have someone with a sign for you.”

“What’s this hostage’s name?”

“Angela Ziegler. There will be information files on the jet for you.”

“Roger that.”

Hanzo disconnected the call, but did not move away from the desk. After a moment, he picked up the phone and dialed again. _One or two more guns couldn’t hurt..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 251 km/hr is approximately 156 mph.
> 
> I decided to call the “wheels” on the hovercyle “bells” because when examining the other hovering vehicles in-game, I thought the things in place of the wheels kind of looked like jellyfish (the waves that come out of them are the tentacles so that makes the thing that produces the waves the “bell” of the jellyfish). I didn't know what else to call these things, so I just went with “bells” :U
> 
> The fic gets so exciting from this point on guys, I’m so excited 8D
> 
> Oh boy, I wonder who this mysterious bounty hunter is~~~ ;)
> 
> Kudos, comments, bookmarks, and other such forms of feedback are all super appreciated!


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